


The Devil You Know

by dapatty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-23
Updated: 2008-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/"><b>quote_inspired</b></a> due on Oct. 25 with the quote: <i>"You have a gift for manipulation."</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/profile)[**quote_inspired**](http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/) due on Oct. 25 with the quote: _"You have a gift for manipulation."_

_**Fic: The Devil You Know**_  
Title: The Devil You Know  
Author: [](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/profile)[**dapatty**](http://dapatty.livejournal.com/)  
Fandom/Pairing/Rating: NC-17,Supernatural, Wincest, Sam/Dean  
Spoilers: 4.05 just to be safe.  
Beta: [](http://shadowrider.livejournal.com/profile)[**shadowrider**](http://shadowrider.livejournal.com/)  
Notes: Written for [](http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/profile)[**quote_inspired**](http://quote-inspired.livejournal.com/) due on Oct. 25 with the quote: _"You have a gift for manipulation."  
"I listen, I have an actual conversation with people. Which shockingly does raise the odds that they'll be co-operative."  
"That's what I'm saying. You read that kid, then manipulated the hell out of him." (House, MD)_ Also x-posted to [](http://wincest.livejournal.com/profile)[**wincest**](http://wincest.livejournal.com/)

Dean wishes it weren’t true, but he’s started to notice the little things that he didn’t want to see before. Apparently four months is a lifetime that Dean can’t erase for Sam. He’d gladly be quietly horrified about his time in Hell—wear it like a foolhardy scared badge of honor despite the terror—if it meant that Sam could just be Sammy again. He’d settle for post Stanford mopey slightly neurotic bowl haircut Sammy. But it doesn’t matter. He’s never gonna get it.

Maybe one day, they’ll be able to look back on this and laugh if—when they survive the apocalypse. Or maybe at least not scream at each other.  
The latest in the ever-growing list of offenses Sam has managed to rack up in Dean’s book, now that he’s keeping a conscious track—since God is keeping track—is the way that Sam just played this eighteen year old young punk with an eyebrow piercing and an attitude. The same punk who was scared out of his mind when he had to watch a chucacabra carry off his sister while he lay on the dirt in his own blood too numb with fear and too shock riddled to pass out.

And sure, they were raised to be the best at finely tuning information out of a civilian for the job, though Dean’s never really had the patience for it unless pie or kids were involved. But, this was different. Sam played the boy like Slash plays guitar riffs-with effortless unflinching accuracy. Sam, who was Captain Empathy full of heartfelt concern and kindness, manipulated the ever-loving shit out of some kid who was grieving leaving him shell-shocked.

Dean tells Sam as much with that older brother you’re freaking me out tone—which he uses a lot lately. Sam was brash and inappropriate like Dean. They’re on opposite sides again like they’ve traded places only they’re both doing a bang up job.

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asks all self-righteous anger in return. “I listen, I have an actual conversation with people. Which shockingly does raise the odds that they'll be co-operative. Same as usual.”

“No Sam. Not same as usual,” Dean states getting self-righteous right back. “You read that kid and then manipulated the hell out of him.”

“Dean, we were raised to do that,” Sam dismisses with a gesture and a bit of a flush coloring his cheeks. Dean tries not to notice the heat of Sam’s face, reminding himself that he has to keep thinking with his upstairs brain. Fucking will not solve their problems.

“Yeah, I know. But not to scare the shit out of civilians by telling them that their sister is better off being found eviscerated and truly dead instead of a monster so they’ll talk,” Dean continues on. “What the fuck, dude?”

“I did not say that,” Sam denies but he can’t quite get his eyes to match the innocence of his tone as he licks his lips and that sets Deans skin on fire, burning in two directions.

“No, but you got goddamned close,” Dean states feeling them start the slide into the vicious circle—this roundabout argument that never gets them anywhere but angry and further disappointed in the other parroting “You were gone” and “You changed.” Not that he’s helping where this goes.

Sam averts his eyes to hide or find a way to change the subject or run, but Dean can’t do it this time.

He closes the distance between them and takes his brother’s face in his hands. “Fuck this,” Dean mutters and he’s not sure if he means the argument or their echoed shame or an act of desperation to put them in a different mindset of a simpler time, but his lips seize his brother’s roughly, closing them before Sam can say another stupid horrible thing. He kisses Sam with reckless abandon, plunging his tongue into his brother’s mouth, licking and sucking. Sam moans as Dean lightly bites and sucks Sam’s bottom lip before pulling away.

“Dean,” he says breathless.

“Sam. Shut the fuck up,” Dean states while maneuvering his giant of a brother out of his clothes. Sam fumbles to help or excessively grope his brother while trying to get Dean out of his clothes at the same time. Over shirts, shoes, t-shirts, pants, boxers go flying in multiple directions.

They unceremoniously flounce onto the bed. Dean shifts to straddle his brother’s waist and can feel that Sam is happy to have him there. His own cock rests against Sam’s stomach. He then covers his brother’s lips with his own causing Sam to moan deep and throaty.

Sam starts to shift to be on top of his brother, but Dean pins Sam down with his hands on his brother’s shoulders and shifting his weight lower to where their cocks brush.

“Not so fast Sasquatch,” Dean says voice ripe with desire. “Gonna fuck you.”  
With that he reaches in the bedside drawer to retrieve lube and a condom and makes deft work of both as he slides the condom on his hard shaft then glides lube over it. He moves to rest on his knees between Sam’s legs and proceeds to open his brother up with the remaining lube on his hand.

He slides one finger into Sam’s opening quickly following it with another causing his brother to moan appreciatively.

“Dean more,” Sam urges pushing his ass against his brother’s hand.

To which, Dean adds a third finger working Sam further and finding the prostate causing Sam to buck and flutter his eyes.

“Fuck!” Sam moans and Dean grunts in return.

“Fuck me, now. Dean, now,” Sam moans further driving against Dean’s fingers.

“Now that’s more like it,” Dean answers removing his hand. He adjusts his position, encouraging Sam to wrap those long legs around him, and then guides his length into Sam with a grunt.

Sam moans, “Yes Dean,” and other sexed out nothings as Dean starts his rhythm. With each stroke, Dean drives deeper and deeper hitting the prostrate every third stroke. And every third stroke Sam bucks and digs his heels deeper into his back.

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean grunts equally dirty things against his brother’s neck the harder and longer he goes.

Sam comes screaming his brother’s name which Dean silences with a kiss. Dean comes a mere three thrusts later.

Sliding out of his brother and disposing of the condom, he rests laying half on the bed half on Sammy with an arm resting across his brother’s stomach.

After a few minutes their breathing levels out and Dean speaks.

“You’ve gotta quite scaring the fuck out of me Sammy.” This is more than he ever expected to come out and say about that whole exercising demons with Sam’s mind thing and Sam’s shift into someone harder.

“I’m trying Dean,” Sam says voice quiet with sadness. Dean knows if he looked he’d see that kicked puppy expression on his brother’s face.

Instead of looking, Dean kisses his brother’s neck hoping Sam will get it—all those things he doesn’t say.

In response, Sam wraps an arm around his brother and covers them up.


End file.
